


set a course for winds of fortune

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/F, Family Fluff, Female Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Gabriel Agreste's A+ Parenting, Minor Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur, Minor Sabine Cheng/Tom Dupain, Misgendering, Nathalie Sancoeur's A+ Parenting, Podfic Welcome, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Romantic Fluff, Runaway Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Sabine Cheng Knows, Trans Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Transphobia, deadnaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24362884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: "Good," said Hawkmoth. "He'll be home soon."Nathalie pinned the Peacock Miraculous to her jacket and called her transformation, ignoring the sad expression Duusu wore. Mayura seized at the pain that felt most like Adrien's—the emotions dissolved like struck mist. The fury beside it, unmistakably that of Marinette Dupain-Cheng—if one of them could twisther, as strong as she must be to have resisted so often and so long? soon, surely—but that too evaporated."A mother's love for a daughter not her own," mused Hawkmoth, infusing one of the white butterflies with violet Miraculous strength. "A mother's anger on the girl's behalf, that the girl's true parents abandoned her. This will serve."
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Sabine Cheng & Tom Dupain, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 43
Kudos: 576





	set a course for winds of fortune

Nathalie checked the TVi feed against the clock and her records one more time. "Another minute, sir."

"Good," said Hawkmoth. "He'll be home soon."

Nathalie set her tablet on the small table, pinned the Peacock Miraculous to her jacket, and called her transformation, ignoring the sad expression Duusu wore. Mayura joined Hawkmoth in the center of the cupola, empathic sense extended for any hint of the boy who wasn't her stepson.

She was not willing to believe him dead—not even after six months; she or, more likely, his father would have _felt_ his death—but Adrien had not touched one cent of the money in any account he had ever possessed before leaving Gabriel a voicemail saying " _Don't try to find me, don't try to contact me_ " and vanishing off the face of the earth. Those accounts were all empty now, to the delight of the city's animal shelters and domestic violence shelters, and no amount of searching—licitly or otherwise—had turned up new accounts in Adrien's name, nor employment records, nor _anything_. Neither Hawkmoth nor Mayura had felt more than flickers of distress from him since he ran away, and some of those flickers were certainly the emotions of people who felt like, but were not, Adrien—but how could he be anything but miserable, barely scraping together enough to survive?

Where _was_ he?

The advertisement for Tsurugi luxury cars finished playing, and Gabriel's recorded voice began: "On behalf of all the loving and supportive parents of wayward and prodigal children: please come home. Your parents cannot take care of you if we do not even know where you are. You will never be able to fix a mistake if you never admit you made one. Please, son, come home."

Throughout the arrondissement: dozens of spikes of fury, dozens of spikes of pain.

Mayura seized at the pain that felt most like Adrien's—the emotions dissolved like struck mist. The fury beside it, unmistakably that of Marinette Dupain-Cheng—if one of them could twist _her_ , as strong as she must be to have resisted so often and so long? soon, surely—but that too evaporated.

"A mother's love for a daughter not her own," mused Hawkmoth, infusing one of the white butterflies with violet Miraculous strength. "A mother's anger on the girl's behalf, that the girl's true parents abandoned her. This will serve."

Mayura's sapphire feather followed Hawkmoth's purple butterfly out over Paris.

* * *

Sabine Cheng blinked up at Chatonne Noire and accepted the heroine's hand up. "What happened?" Sabine asked. Behind Chatonne, the great gap in the wall around the Agreste mansion showed substantial damage to the mansion itself as well. "Did—did I hurt anyone?"

Not that Sabine had a problem with hurting at least two of the three permanent residents of the Agreste mansion—she couldn't be sure about the third—but she would prefer to remember doing so. And—"Miraculous Ladybug!" cried Ladybug several meters away, and a swarm of sparkling magic swept over the area—Sabine would prefer whatever marks she left _stayed_.

Chatonne shrugged, tossing her long golden braid back over her shoulder. "Nothing that stuck," she assured Sabine. With half a glance around for listeners, Chatonne leaned down to Sabine's ear: "And between you and me? He deserved worse."

"Oh, just him, then?" Sabine glared through the walls at the man who was presumably in that building, entirely uninjured and without a clue what he'd ever done wrong. "—Valérie! She heard that ad—"

"She's fine," Ladybug interrupted, coming over to rest one hand soft on her partner's arm. "Marinette's okay too. They both bolted when they saw the butterfly land; they're probably safe home by now. Your husband, on the other hand," and she nodded to one side; Sabine turned to see Tom rushing up to them, and gratefully let herself be enveloped in his arms.

"M. Dupain?" said Chatonne once Tom set Sabine back down. "I don't want to imply we aren't impressed by your courage, or grateful for your assistance, because we are very much both. But _please_ leave the mêlée combat with Miraculous wielders to _other Miraculous wielders_!"

Sabine eyed Tom with sudden suspicion. "What did you do and how badly did you get hurt?"

"He tackled Mayura," Ladybug told her. " _Tackled_. He didn't look _too_ horribly injured, but—" A series of beeps; her hand went to one ear. "—if he were my father, I'd be freaking out right now, with or without Miraculous Cure." Well, it wasn't as though Sabine would have expected anything _but_ her family needing to hug each other back to contented calm. Ladybug held one fist out for Chatonne Noire to bump, smiled at her partner, and launched her yo-yo: "Bug out!"

Chatonne put her clawed fingers to her black-hued lips and blew a kiss after Ladybug.

"Sorry I couldn't catch her," Tom told Chatonne, ducking his head.

"Not your fault, sir." Chatonne sent a venomous glance toward another nearby roof. "You wouldn't send a level twenty tank against a level fifty DPS when—" More beeps; Chatonne didn't pause. "—your buddies include a level sixty DPS and a level sixty tank and nobody's even debuffed her any, right?" She winked, grinned, and extended her staff to vault after Ladybug.

"…Are you _sure_ we can't convince Marinette to marry that girl?" asked Tom.

Sabine rolled her eyes, reorienting herself to start walking home. "And leave poor Valérie all alone?" She didn't dare violate her daughter's or her soon-to-be-daughter-in-law's trust by telling her husband the truth—it was bad enough Sabine herself knew!—but how had either of them kept from exploding from the frustration of secrecy? "Besides, Chatonne Noire and Ladybug seem so in love. I wouldn't want to annoy them badly enough they think of having anyone else cater their wedding."

"—Good point," said Tom. A moment's silence, then: "The sentimonster—it was mine. My worry for you and the girls. —I got my wedding ring back!" he added, hasty. "It isn't even squashed anymore!"

"And I was akumatized out of anger at that ass…oh, they must have hated that fight." Sabine paused to consider, her footsteps unhesitating. "What did I look like?"

"Well, you called yourself Mama Bear…"

* * *

Nathalie pushed open the door of the bakery; at the register, Marinette looked up at the chime. The smile she wore stiffened instantly from the 'genuinely pleased to see you' side of polite retail worker to the 'fuck off and die' side of polite retail worker, though perhaps only the Peacock or Butterfly wielders would be able to tell the difference. "Mme. Sancoeur," said Marinette.

Behind Marinette in the prep area, the flour-covered brunette apprentice baker glanced Nathalie's way. Only for a split second, without missing a beat in kneading her dough, but those cool green eyes—

No, impossible. Adrien might well dye his hair, probably hadn't cut it since before running away, but this girl's face was a subtly different shape, and Adrien certainly didn't have breasts. The girl reminded her of Émilie, that was all.

"Madame?" repeated Marinette.

Nathalie shook her head, unwilling to explain. "Mlle. Dupain-Cheng. My order."

"It's ready." Marinette bounced off her stool and up onto her tiptoes, caressing the baker's cheek in passing; the girl smiled, eyes closing, the thump-thump of kneading continuing without pause. It took only a moment for her to compare the order itself to the contents of the box she fetched: barely long enough for Nathalie to retrieve her debit card, Gabriel's personal business card, and a folded printout of the advertisement for a new Gabriel Fashions contest.

The plan was not to speak more than a few words to the target—these lavender-chocolate cookies would be a pleasant treat, but the sole reason to purchase them was to give Nathalie an excuse to enter the bakery—but Nathalie found herself asking, "Have you heard from Adrien?"

"Haven't seen him, haven't heard from him, haven't any idea where to find him," Marinette answered, entirely too blithe. The card reader informed them the transaction was approved. "Not that I would tell you if I had."

"I only want him home safe," Nathalie tried. "Surely you care enough about your friend to—"

"Surely I do," Marinette interrupted. "I care that my friend is safe and happy." She glared up at Nathalie. "Have a good day."

Outside, Nathalie hesitated before walking home. Through the tinted glass, she could see the baker abandoning her dough to read the advertisement Marinette was unfolding. Good; the more people to encourage Marinette to enter the contest, the better, since she inexplicably hadn't leaped on the opportunity already. The girl couldn't lose, nor win and then be proven to have rigged in her favor, a contest she hadn't entered.

* * *

"They're kidding, right?" The paper crumpled in Marinette's hands; Tikki darted over from the pastry display she absolutely wasn't (she would assure them if asked) raiding; Plagg peeked out of Valérie's apron pocket, purring. Fuming, Marinette continued, "This is a _joke_."

"Oh no, they're deadly serious." Valérie leaned down to rest her chin on Marinette's shoulder: she would hug her partner if she wouldn't have to wash up before going back to the dough. The partner whose career could get a decent jump-start if Marinette won this contest. "Don't hesitate on my account."

"Kitten. I don't need his prestige to get me anywhere. I don't think I'd want it either, even if you _did_ want him in your life." Marinette grabbed her phone and dialed, turning on speaker. "Maman, bring down one of the ceramic bowls, a cup of water, and the matches, please?"

"What for?" asked Sabine.

"Because the fire of a thousand suns exceeds safety regulations."

"Nathalie has been and gone," Valérie clarified, grinning. "She came bearing gifts. Marinette wants to burn the horse Nathalie rode in on."

Marinette clapped one hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter, waving the business card in the other towards one of the display cases.

—No, one of the windows, with someone standing outside. "Excuse me, been and not gone," Valérie corrected herself. "I think she's watching for Marinette's reaction?"

"Or," said Marinette darkly.

"She didn't recognize me," Valérie observed. That would have gotten a much bigger reaction. "It's okay."

Sabine burst in from the stairway, startling both kwamis out of sight. "I am so sorry," she told Valérie, leaning up to pat her on one shoulder. "I meant to handle that myself so neither of you would have to see her."

"You're allowed breaks," Valérie and Marinette said in unison, Marinette thumbing the end-call button. Valérie wouldn't be surprised to find Nathalie had hung around outside in order to make sure neither Tom nor Sabine would be there when she arrived anyway.

Tom entered with bowl and cup in hand. "Oh, that looks good," he said, nodding to Valérie's dough. "How's it feel?"

"Not the right texture yet. Another minute or two." No point trying to hide how pleased Valérie felt. "But first!"

Marinette scooped the box of matches out of the bowl, set the flyer and business card in, and pulled out one match. "A toast!" She struck the match: "To honest victory!" and dropped it.

Valérie watched the papers catch, then turned back to her kneading. If Nathalie was still watching, _let_ her.

"A toast!" Marinette repeated a minute later, just as Valérie decided this was as kneaded as it needed. "A toast!" chimed in Tom and Sabine both. Tom was holding the cup of water over the bowl.

Ah. Well, that wasn't difficult. Multiple meanings, even. "To true love!"

Tom extinguished the flames, grinning, then swept Sabine up in his arms.

"Oh, _kitten_ ," said Marinette, folding her arms, but her smirk betrayed how irritated she wasn't. And exactly what she wanted.

"I can't kiss you right now, my lady," Valérie told her, pretending excessive patience (and once again glad everyone in their age bracket thought Ladybug and Chatonne Noire were romance goals), "because I am sticky and flour-cov—"

Never mind; she'd wash up later.

**Author's Note:**

> [My comment policy](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/612627045048008704/as-a-fic-writer-i-need-every-reader-to-know): tl;dr happy comments make me happy. So do thinky comments, of course, but there exist jerks who think only thinky comments are worth anyone leaving.
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


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